


Infecting Everything You Love

by Jenshih_Blue



Series: The Wonderland Series [3]
Category: Luther (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Related, Episode: s07e18 Party on Garth, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice has bored of watching and now she wants to play. When she plays though, there’s nothing deadlier. She knows which buttons to push.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infecting Everything You Love

Lakeport State Park  
North of Port Huron, Michigan  
April 06, 2012

 

Ribbons of dense fog coiled between the trees lifting skyward into the night clouded by an approaching storm over Lake Huron. Behind the clouds, the moon was full and ripe though no human eye could see its beauty. Through the fog a young woman ran, feet bare, clothes torn and stained crimson with blood. As she ran, chest heaving, her breath exploded from her lips to join the fog in ghost-white streamers. Tears streaked her ashen face, hair wild and tangled as she glimpsed over her shoulder eyes bright with terror and lost her balance, toe catching on a broken limb on the forest floor.

Hands flung out to catch her weight she let out a shrill scream as she hit water rather than the solid earth she’d expected. The icy water soaked her as it flooded up over her head and swallowed her scream, filling mouth and nose. She knew without a doubt if the water didn’t claim her life the thing pursuing her would.

As she accepted her fate, strong fingers encircled her bicep. She coughed out copious amounts of lake water as she felt herself dragged from what could have been an icy grave and lifted into two strong arms. The smell of gunpowder infiltrated her nose as she buried her face into the man’s broad shoulder.

“Sammy, I got her! That son of a bitch is fast!”

“I think I hit the fucker, Dean, but I’m not sure!”

Clinging to the man, she continued coughing and tried to blink the water from her eyes as he lowered her to the ground. A face appeared in her line of vision, green-hued hazel eyes, and freckles the first things she noticed. Then he pulled back and shucked off his coat, wrapping it around her trembling body.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Nodding, her fingers dug into the edges of the coat and pulled it tighter as behind them a gun’s report echoed through the darkness. He turned toward the copse of trees as the clouds parted and moonlight pierced the shadows. The light encircled his profile in a silver halo for a split second then disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

“Sam!” he screamed.

No answer came and then another gunshot exploded in the darkness followed by a mournful howl through the fog.

“Take that you bastard!” a disembodied voice drifted from the trees.

The man who’d rescued her from the water, fist-pumped the air, and let out a whoop as a second man appeared at the edge of the trees, plucking stray twigs and leaves from his long hair. “You had me scared there for a second, Sammy.” he stood, jogging toward his companion and slapped him on the back earning a grin.

Sam crossed the rocky shoreline and knelt next to her, face shadowed by tangled hair, smile softening. “You okay, miss?”

“I think so.” She whispered.

“What’s your name?”

She looked up with pale eyes. “Alice…Alice Morgan.”

 

It was supposed to be simple, but when had anything been simple since they’d averted the Apocalypse. The monsters were weird even now, almost a year after Eve’s death. Sam shifted in the passenger seat of the car, eying the young woman they’d rescued tonight along the lake's shore. She lay curled on the back seat, Dean’s coat swallowing her petite frame, and slept. Her vibrant red hair spilled across the faded army green of the coat, almost the color of dried blood in the darkness. She reminded him of Anna with her milky complexion and red hair. Maybe that’s why Dean had remained silent as he drove back to the resort where they'd rented a cottage.

The storm broke before they reached the car and all three of them were drenched to the bone. Nothing worse than wet socks, he thought as he ran one hand through his dripping hair. He turned back to stare out the rain-slick windshield, rhythm of the wipers hypnotizing.

“It took two silver bullets to the heart with this one, Dean. I thought he had me when the first one didn’t take him out.”

Dean nodded, eyes never leaving the road.

“What next time, immunity to silver?”

“What the hell was she doing out there?”

Sam came damn near to jumping out of his skin when Dean spoke. “I don’t have a clue, but she has bruises around her wrists. You think maybe the wolf was holding her for some reason?”

“Don’t know.” he sucked on his lower lip, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “But that would mean this one was more human than it should be.”

To be honest Sam didn’t know what to say. Trying to deal with the monsters was bad enough, but dealing with these new breeds was taxing their resources. That coupled with the fact the Leviathans were still on their asses made things even worse to cope with.

Then there was the guilt.

Weeks had passed since Castiel had returned, healing him, and taking on the insanity that had nearly killed him. Weeks and nothing had changed according to Meg, not that he trusted the bitch. He knew why Dean had worked with her, but it didn’t mean he had to agree with or like the situation. He knew Meg on a more intimate level than Dean could imagine. Years ago, she’d possessed him and murdered a fellow hunter in an attempt to get his brother to pull the trigger on him. There was no way in hell he was going to let Dean know how he felt about Meg much less about the guilt he felt over Castiel.

In the back, Alice listened, face burrowed in Dean’s jacket as he and his brother talked in soft tones so as not to disturb what they believed was their sleeping passenger, an innocent girl saved from a savage werewolf. Executed with perfection her plan had gone over without a hitch, despite Crowley’s misgivings. It had been her demon companion who’d procured the werewolf with a bit of persuasion and the rest she’d done herself. Two hitchhikers murdered during the previous full moon, torn apart and their hearts ripped from their chests had been enough to lure the brothers to Port Huron.

If Alice knew anything, it was the peccadilloes of heroes. Their motivations were often translucent as glass, their hearts easy to manipulate. The Winchesters though were so psychologically fucked it was a piece of cake to get her foot in the proverbial door.

She smiled to herself as she recalled all the delicious secrets Crowley had offered when given the right motivation. These Leviathans she’d noticed tracking her prey might terrify Crowley, but he was more scared of her and for good reason. She might be human, walking case of Jaffa Cakes as far as the Leviathans were concerned, yet none of that mattered. What did matter was the lengths to which Alice would go to achieve her goals and these creatures didn’t have a clue about that.

Now she had to put into place step two of her plan.

 

They were pulling into the driveway of Armstrong’s Lakeport Resort when Sam heard their passenger stir awake. He and Dean had rented a cottage for the Easter weekend knowing it would be easier when most people were gathering for the holiday. The full moon being on Good Friday was a blessing. It could have been far worse had the campgrounds in the park been filled to capacity.

Sam turned to see Alice pushing up into a seated position, one pale shoulder visible as Dean’s coat slid down her arm. She yawned wide, scrubbing her eyes with one tiny hand, and then focused on him.

“How you doing?” he asked as Dean maneuvered the car through the winding roads to their cottage.

She smiled. “Better I suppose considering the circumstances.”

“You’re from the UK—right?”

“London.” She offered brushing hair from her face.

Her eyes were mesmerizing to him as she studied him with a curious glance. They were a robin’s egg blue and fringed with reddish gold lashes so pale as to almost disappear against her skin. Sam felt himself drawn to the girl although he never had been attracted to red heads in the past.

“You don’t seem very frightened.” Dean stated as he brought the car to a stop.

Their eyes met in the rear view mirror and Alice cleared her throat. “When you’ve seen the things I have, fear is not an option.”

“And what have you seen because I’m damned sure you never ran into a werewolf in Piccadilly Square.”

“Piccadilly Circus.” She corrected.

Dean frowned. “What?"

“The proper name is Piccadilly Circus and no, werewolves do not run wild through the streets of London—Dean was it?” her eyes pinned him like a butterfly to a board. “That doesn’t mean I’m unaware of their existence.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose as he glanced at Dean from the corner of his eye. “So, you’re a hunter?”

“Not exactly.” she replied, gaze never wavering from Dean’s face. “My parents were…let’s say…collectors of rare mystical objects. They were murdered two years ago for a certain item from their collection.”

“You remind me of another Brit we knew and she was nothing, but bad news.” Dean exited the car, a shiver sliding up his spine, and slammed the door leaving Alice and Sam alone.

“I’m afraid I’ve upset your friend.” She leaned back staring at the tattered roof.

“Brother,” Sam corrected. “And to be honest Dean’s been in a funk for a long time.”

Alice blinked, “Brothers? I wouldn’t have guessed. You look nothing alike.”

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the first to think we’re friends.”

It seemed Alice ascertained his meaning when she started to laugh. Shaking her head, she smiled. “I didn’t mean that type of friend.”

“Then you’d be the first who didn’t.”

 

Once they were back in the cottage, Sam loaned Alice a clean tee shirt and socks letting her retire to the bathroom for a shower. When she’d returned, he’d tended to the numerous cuts and abrasions she’d suffered. Dean on the other hand couldn’t seem to look at Alice much less listen as she told her story.

She’d came over to the States when a contact in London had told her there was noise about the stolen piece that had cost her parents their lives. Making her way to Port Huron, she’d been following a lead toward Sarnia across the border into Ontario. She’d stopped and rented a cottage in the Armstrong Resort two nights before. The night she checked-in someone snatched her from the grounds. She’d assumed it had something to do with her search for the missing piece. The next thing she knew her captor had released her in the woods and the wolf had started hunting her. It seemed a game and a few hours later Dean pulled her from the water.

Dean sat across the room, glass of whiskey in hand attention seemingly focused on his laptop, but Sam knew he was listening. After Alice finished her story he left, no explanation. It wasn’t as if Sam was perfect by a long shot, he wasn’t, but he’d hoped the tension would ease off with tonight’s hunt. If he were honest, the tension had simply gotten worse when they’d left Castiel behind and he’d known the hunt was a momentary distraction.

“Your brother, he seems to be hurting.”

“He is.” Sam sighed staring at the door. “I have no idea what to say or do anymore.”

Alice stood and walked to the end of the bed, kneeling at Sam’s feet. “You don’t have to talk to me about this, but did he lose someone recently?"

A lump rose in Sam’s throat. “Yes, we lost two people both of them so close together. There was Bobby and he was like a father to us and then a good friend got sick.”

When he started talking, he couldn’t stop the grief pouring out in waves. Afterward he could barely keep his eyes open he was so exhausted. Alice leaned forward on her knees and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. It seemed she could give him the one thing Dean couldn’t seem to—release from the guilt and grief.

 

When Sam finally fell into a deep slumber, Alice slipped from the room and headed for her own cottage. When she arrived, she slipped on a pair of jeans and pulled on boots, opting to continue wearing Sam’s tee shirt. An action that would show Sam she trusted him when she returned.

“Did you thank him proper? Perhaps shag him senseless?”

She lifted her head as she finished lacing her boot and met Crowley’s cold gaze. “And what if I did, Fergus? Would you be upset—jealous?”

Rolling his eyes, Crowley drifted about the room, fingers grazing the furniture and other random items. “Jealous? Are you insane? Oh, check that you are buggers—aren’t you, love."

Alice snorted. “Insanity is a matter of perception.”

He paused, eyebrow lifted in her direction. “Is it now? And precisely how do you propose to get Dean under your thumb? Moose was easy. You’d think after everything he’s been through he’d have lost that childish innocence. Dean on the other hand…” his words trailed off into a faint whistle.

“Anna.”

Crowley frowned. “Excuse me?"

Mouth twisting in a mock smile, Alice chuckled. “Anna, you do recall her—don’t you, sweetie? The wee fallen angel our poor wounded Dean fell into bed with.”

It took a second for the pieces to fall into place, but when they did, Crowley clapped his hands in amusement. “That idea, my darling Alice, is exquisite."

“Do you think so?” she stood and grabbed a jacket, tugging it on. “You see, dear, to deal with any problem you must have the proper equipment. Your biggest problem was you never had it.” She glanced pointedly at his crotch. “I on the other hand…” she twisted her finger into the waves of her red hair, tongue darting out to slide across pouted lips.

Crowley chuckled. “Of course, neither of us might have the right equipment.”

“And precisely what does that mean?” her eyes gleamed with irritation.

With an amused smirk, Crowley flapped his arms like wings, and then vanished before she could say a word.

Wings, she thought. She hated to admit it, but the bastard had a point. Dean Winchester did seem to have a proclivity for angels not surprising considering what he’d been destined to do. She headed for the door and paused to glance in the mirror, smoothing her hair down. Of course, he seemed to enjoy women as well so first thing was first. If the Anna plan didn’t play out proper then there was always the angel thing.

 

The storm clouds had cleared out a couple of hours before and the eastern horizon above the lake was beginning to lighten to shades of violet. Dean was damned sure Sam would be pissed about his quick exit when he returned. He’d offered no explanation when he’d left and in all honesty, Dean wasn’t sure he could have given his brother one that made a lick of sense.

The girl they’d rescued from the werewolf unnerved him like nothing since Zachariah had fluttered him into a future that had never come to pass. He remembered the look in his brother’s eyes as he’d stood in an overcast rose garden. It had been Sam, but not Sam. Whatever part of his brother that remained after Lucifer had taken possession of his body had been lost to the evil inside him. It wasn’t the look in his eyes though that bothered Dean the most. It was the innocence of his appearance, clothed in white, admiring the blood red roses, and so sure of his actions. Lucifer had believed he was in the right. He hadn’t been towing the company line so to speak he’d honestly believed his own words.

Alice had the same quality about her. There was the innocence in her appearance, but if you looked in her eyes, there was something not quite right. Of course, Dean could be letting everything he’d experienced in the past few weeks color his perception. Then there was the other thing.

Anna.

He hadn’t thought of Anna in what seemed forever. When they’d first met, she was simply a college student locked up and diagnosed with schizophrenia because she claimed to hear angels. It turned out she wasn’t ill, but rather she was an angel herself who’d chosen to fall, become human, eventually forgetting who and what she’d been.

Drawn to Anna before she remembered he’d wondered why until she retrieved her memories. He remembered listening to her beneath a starry sky in Bobby’s salvage yard explain what it was like to be an angel. That was when he understood his attraction to her. It was what lay beneath her skin. Neither of them wanted to be what they were and both had tried hard to forget what they’d become.

Alice looked like Anna—vivid red hair, porcelain perfect skin. Her appearance pulled anguish from deep inside him he’d thought laid to rest long ago. He blamed himself for what had happened to Anna. If they’d never—

His throat closed up mix of anger and grief leaving a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. They’d done God only knew what to Anna just as they had to Castiel in an attempt to manipulate and control both he and his brother. Castiel had fought it though as where Anna had given in; first trying to murder them and then traveling back to kill their parents. In the end, Michael had brought the wrath of heaven down on her and burnt her to ash.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding."

He glanced up into Alice’s eerie eyes and suppressed a shudder. “What the hell do you want?” he demanded.

She clambered onto the picnic table he was sitting on and took a seat next to him, eyes focused on the lightening sky, “To thank you proper for saving me tonight.

Dean snorted.

“Is it that difficult to accept a grateful thank you?” she asked.

“No.” he huffed. “Though I have to say, lady, I’m not sure how grateful you are.”

Alice turned and eyed Dean with what could have been a number of emotions. Her eyes shimmered in the faint light of the sun as it dipped above the horizon and for the first time since he’d lifted her from the water he actually felt regret. He was hurting, he knew that, but it didn’t give him a right to be angry or suspicious of her. She was a victim of circumstance as much as he was.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, thinking of Sam sitting alone back at the cottage and probably worrying himself sick. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Shifting she reached out, soft delicate hand cupping Dean’s jaw. He flinched at the gentle touch and tried to turn away. The memory of Anna rose again, the way she’d touched him and looked into his eyes as he fought the memories of what he’d done in Hell. He didn’t deserve the kindness she was offering. He’d allowed Bobby to die, his brother to suffer, and then there was Castiel. He’d thought him dead, but when he’d returned, healed Sam at the cost of his own sanity, he’d abandoned him to the tender mercies of Meg.

Kindness was the last thing he deserved.

Alice leaned in, thumb swiping away the tears on his cheek. “Dean, you must understand—control is an illusion. We are only human and there are things none of us can stop despite our best efforts.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve done.” The words hearkened back to what he’d said to Anna and his gut twisted in a knot. “Some of us are just failures."

“You saved me.” She offered.

He looked up to meet her eyes. All he saw was understanding and a part of him wished he could believe her words; really believe. Once he’d told Sam that he needed to stuff it all down, the anger, fear, and pain. That was what Winchesters did.

“You need to let go.” Alice whispered, fingers ghosting up his jaw to thread through his damp hair. “Nothing ever came from self-sacrifice without a price.”

Before he could reply, she leaned in their lips meeting in a tender kiss. With that single kiss, Dean felt as if his walls were crumbling. The grief, horror, and self-recrimination falling brick by brick until they all became like dust on the wind.The kiss deepened and even as he gave into her touch, some part of his mind whispered a warning. He ignored the voice he heard that sounded far too much like Bobby and he fell into the comfort she offered.

Damn it to hell, boy, she’s nothing but trouble. You need to walk away.

Bobby was dead, he thought. And he was never coming back no matter how much he wished it were possible. Alice was alive, breathing, and offered something not even Sam could—release from the pain.

 

John Luther sat at his desk, staring out at the skyline of London, and bounced a rubber ball off the wall. It was close to noon and he hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. He was exhausted, eyes bloodshot, but beneath the calm expression his mind was spinning wildly. Precisely seventy-two hours ago was the last he’d heard from Alice. At the time, unfortunately, his team was involved in a messy case.

Now he had time to think. Something she’d said had lodged in his brain, lingering until now. He imagined he should feel a bit of guilt, considering he was the one who’d helped her escape, but he couldn’t be bothered. The world as he saw it was no worse for Alice being in it, in actuality it was probably better, despite the fact she’d not only murdered her parents, but his ex-partner Ian Reed as well. He had never wanted Ian dead, he’d wanted to him to face the horrors he’d committed over a handful of gems.

Alice had taken the choice from him.

She’d done it for him. At least in her mind she had because she’d believed he wanted revenge for his wife Zoe’s death. She’d also done it because some part of her believed she was in love with him. He hadn’t wanted vengeance and Alice didn’t know what love was, but Zoe’s new lover Mark had on both counts. He’d wanted vengeance so badly he’d egged Alice on not that he needed to. John was quite sure she would have pulled the trigger either way. That was what sociopaths did. They possessed no moral compass. Ian had murdered in fear, Alice had murdered for the pure pleasure of seeing Ian bleed out on the floor.

“You need to go home, John.”

The ball dropped to the floor as he turned toward DSU Schenk. “What would you say if I requested some time away, Martin?”

“I’d say you’ve earned it after the year you’ve had.” He adjusted his glasses. “Of course, I’d also ask precisely where this request has suddenly appeared from.”

“Don’t know.” He answered massive frame filling the room as he stood and stretched.

He was being honest with Martin. He couldn’t quite explain why he had this sudden urge to hunt Alice down. It was a bit of a prick in the core of his brain. Even if he had been able to explain the urge, he couldn’t have said why specifically he needed the time to Martin. Martin wasn’t a fool. John imagined he had his suspicions about how Alice had so easily escaped, but he doubted he’d ever bring them up. He’d already risked his career to keep John working for the Metropolitan and he wasn’t about to admit he might have made a mistake.

“How much time do you need?” Martin asked.

John shrugged, “Couple of weeks if you can manage.”

“Consider it done.”

Martin turned to go and then paused in the door. “John.”

“Yes.”

“Do be careful wherever you go.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You never know what poisonous creature you might happen upon.”

John tipped his head and watched as Martin vanished around the corner. He knew the other man was right. Alice was a venomous creature especially when she was bored with the world. Her type of poison though had no cure in the end, infecting everything those around her loved. For the moment, she wouldn’t bite him though. Apparently, she’d discovered something else to occupy her time in the States. Her last call to him she’d asked him the oddest question.

Angels and demons, she’d inquired. Did he believe they existed?

Demons he’d seen his share of, but they were only evil humans. And if angels existed they’d never bothered doing their damn job, he thought.


End file.
